


11; chicken

by ralphstatortots



Series: george and alex [13]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Gay Chicken, M/M, kdhjhsd yeah.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-03 14:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17285615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralphstatortots/pseuds/ralphstatortots
Summary: -george and alex play a game of chicken?👀





	11; chicken

**Author's Note:**

> for jonarxh on tumblr uwu ty fella xx
> 
> big fuckin owo what a concept im in love, i uhhhhhhhh don’t know what this is but. yeah everything i write lately feels rlly fuckin cringy too lol soz about that ):
> 
> also go give love to fizzlesticks on tumblr for this fantastic art (below) from 2; temptation uwu i would die for him

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Alex can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, and he isn’t sure if he can feel his fingers or not. He definitely can’t feel his knees, but he doesn’t need them. Maybe he can donate his knees for somebody who does need them, because right now he definitely doesn’t. He still can’t breathe.

He and George are filming a video – some Q&A video, except it’s more their fans telling them to do things than anything involving questions. It’s like truth or dare, except it’s a Russian roulette of all dares and no forfeits. It’s for George’s channel too, so Alex has the more reluctant tasks to do, but at least he gets some say in what he does.

“Right then, I think a couple more and we should be good.” George tells him when he’s on a breathing break. The bandana definitely doesn’t do any favours when it comes to talking a lot. Privacy comes with a price, Alex supposes.

“Fire away – let’s see what pain our fans have in store for us.” Alex had sighed dramatically and eyed the camera.

“Okay, erm…” George scrolled through the list of tweets for anything that wasn’t the same image of a meme that was a month old. “Ah! Okay, here’s one. ‘Either _actually_  drink bathwater or play a game of gay chicken lol’.” He read, and it’s only a few seconds afterwards that he’s opened a new tab.

“Isn’t chicken where you try n’ cross the road without getting hit?” Alex had chimed in.

George was already one step ahead with the urban dictionary definition of ‘chicken’ on the screen. “Okay, apparently chicken is fuckin’ cocaine or the driving thing so let’s just find another definition.”

“Maybe they _are_  asking us to do cocaine.” Alex ponders. What kind of subscribers are asking him and George to do cocaine, anyway? He sure as hell hopes not, because that means the only other option is bathwater. He’d rather not literally drink fucking bathwater just to appease George’s fans and, by extent, his own fans. “What if all your twelve-year-old subscribers are asking us to do fuckin’ _cocaine_ , George?”

“Well, we’d better go get some then.” The other man shrugs at him. He said it so plainly that Alex doubted the comedic effect of it for a second. “Wait, they said ‘gay chicken’, though, didn’t they?”

Alex thought for a moment and remembered that whoever this person is did definitely say gay chicken. “But…Wait, what’s _gay_  chicken?”

“‘ _Gay chicken is like the regular game of chicken, except instead of driving at each other on a collision course, players make homosexual advances until one player ‘chickens out._ ’” George read out the short excerpt on screen, and Alex could see the way his eyes squint from behind the glasses.

“Wait, so– _Wait_ , your fans are fuckin’ asking us to either drink literal _bathwater_ ,” Alex didn’t initially think any of this is real. “Or to, like, make out or touch each other’s knobs.”

“Guess so.” George shrugged at him. Alex never did get why he was so calm when he feels like a fucking mess inside.

And that’s how Alex’s lack of oxygen started. He couldn’t _breathe_ , for fuck’s sake, and it only went downhill from there.

Instead of finding another tweet to obey by, George had apparently decided for them that gay chicken was the way to go. Which is how Alex found himself face-to-not-quite-face with one of his best mates and trying not to crack under the immense pressure of ‘ _making homosexual advances_ ’ towards said best mate that he – to put it bluntly – fancies the fuck out of. It doesn’t help that he can’t even read George’s face thanks to the stupid fucking disguise.

“Um…” Alex struggles for words. George had started with a hand on his knee, which meant he had to take it further. He regrets not going first now. “Your...leg?” He says reluctantly and places his hand on George’s leg, only an inch or so above the spot where the other mans hand is on his own.

“Christ, Alex, do you even want to win this?” George scoffs at him and inches his hand up his leg _way_  higher than necessary. “It’s like you’re too _chicken_  or somethin’.”

“ _Haha_ ,” Alex says sarcastically. God, there’s only so much he can do before his brain overthinks the hand on his leg along with his feelings and mashes them up like some horrible lump of bad ideas. “I’ll, er, put my hand...here?” He hesitates and puts his other hand on George’s unoccupied wrist.

“This isn’t fucking Twister, mate. Stop saying that.” George tells him and wheels his chair in closer. “Just do whatever, and we’ll see who backs out first.”

“Right,” Alex nods and releases whatever tension was stiffening up his shoulders. He can see George relax a little too when he does. “ _Right_ , okay, yeah.” He squeaks when George’s hand gets a bit too close to where Alex was mentally begging him not to.

“I’ll put some sexy music over this. With the sax and a piano or summin’. I could even play a little tune myself.” George muses.

“This isn’t Twister, but it isn’t a weird porno either, George.” Alex sighs at him. By the way this is going, it _could_  be a weird, softcore porno. He’ll probably get linked this video on Pornhub or something within the next week.

“You never know how far I might be willing t’ take this yet.” George nudges his leg for him to make a move. Alex shifts his legs wider open to let George kneel on his chair. He isn’t sure if that counts as his turn or the other man’s. “I bet I could go much further in this than you, mate. I _really_  want to win this.”

Alex swallows. How far _would_  George take this? Probably much further than himself. It’s probably easier to do this without any messy feelings in the way. He moves both his hands from their awkward places and places them both in mirroring spots on the back of George’s thighs, encouragingly pulling him into his lap. The winded laugh George gives when he collapses into Alex makes him hold his breath.

“I read that you can also, like, say stuff. Like, to make to other person back out, yeah?” George nods at him.

“Yeah.” Alex affirms and nods back. It’s hard to even _think_  when he has George like this, closer than he ever thought he would. “Yeah, okay. It’s your go then.”

“Alright, then, erm…” George pauses for a second and settles his hands on Alex’s shoulders. He then giggles quietly, underlined with a nervousness in his posture. “Uh, I bet you like me on your lap like this, don’t you, buster?”

“A bit heavy, but it’s not all bad.” The younger man says with a squeeze to George’s thighs. He shifts them a bit higher than dares to as well.

“Oi, fuck off.” George laughs and bends his knees so he’s not just hovering above Alex’s lap. “Don’t be so mean t’me, _daddy_.”

And oh _fuck_ , if that makes Alex hard in the two seconds between George speaking and his hand moving from his shoulder to his cheek, thumb poking between his lips, then he definitely has some self-reflection to work on. He’s never been particularly fond of the word, – thanks horrific Internet experiences – but hearing George say such a thing, towards _Alex_  no less, probably makes him the most obvious person with a boner on the planet.

“Oh?” George says, light and teasing. He’s tugging down the bandana and taking off the glasses, and it’s suddenly much harder for Alex to keep a straight face. “Have I struck a nerve, mate?” He laughs again and moves his hand up into Alex’s hair.

“You’re–“ He swallows and his fingers curl into the seam of George’s jeans, “There’s no way you’re gettin’ ads on this now.”

“I’ll cut it out, yeah?” George offers. His fingers play with his hair and his hips are pushing down onto his crotch ever-so-subtly. “We’ll just...keep playin’ until somebody backs out. Keep it as a personal game now.”

“That’s one way to salvage your ads, I s’pose.” Alex nods. He still can’t breathe. He feels dizzy. “What, er–What if there’s no winner?”

“That’s very presumptuous of you to think you’re not gonna back out. A bit optimistic too, though.” George’s other hand is so very close to his dick. Too close. “But, I guess we’ll just have to play ‘nd see, won’t we, mate?”

Alex nods and exhales shakily through his nose. “Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

He promises himself not to get used to hearing it, or to get used to _any_  of this. He’s probably dreaming. George grins at him and tugs his head back by his hair, leaning in to see if Alex backs out at the last second, and kisses him in a way that makes Alex certain that he’s not just dreaming.


End file.
